


you can take me home, you can never let me go

by segmentcalled



Series: if so, come on, let's go [3]
Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Communication, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Making Out, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Praise Kink, Riding, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19422802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/segmentcalled/pseuds/segmentcalled
Summary: Pat has his headphones on, Griffin in his ears. Blocking out the soundtrack ofMonster Hunteris the truest sign of love, he posits, and he can basically hear Griffin roll his eyes every time he says as much. He’s sprawled on his bed, controller in hand, absentmindedly crafting items as they talk.“How’s ol’ Brian, anyway? He fitting in?” Griffin says.





	you can take me home, you can never let me go

**Author's Note:**

> _you're not shy, so baby it's useless_  
>  _so don't try 'cause you'll end up losing it_  
>  _i want you out in the pouring rain, i want you down on your knees_  
>  _praying to god that i feel the same_  
>  \- [tie me down,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzr4vItHf24) gryffin and elley duhé
> 
> (haha get it the artist's name is gryffin and -- )  
> (also the music video RULES do yourself a favor and watch it)
> 
> ohohoho it appears that my polyamorous ass has gotten very predictably into a polyamorous ship, what a surprise  
> also yall it is such a pain in the ass to write about 3 ppl who use the same pronouns why do i do this to myself
> 
> just as a note, there's a couple oblique references to the situation with [redacted] but mostly just in passing.

Pat has his headphones on, Griffin in his ears. Blocking out the soundtrack of _Monster Hunter_ is the truest sign of love, he posits, and he can basically hear Griffin roll his eyes every time he says as much. He’s sprawled on his bed, controller in hand, absentmindedly crafting items as they talk.

“How’s ol’ Brian, anyway? He fitting in?” Griffin says.

“Seems to be. Have you talked to him, like, one-on-one yet?” Pat asks.

“No, why? Is he —” A tone that is a little too urgent, a pause that is barely a millisecond too long, before Griffin redirects his sentence. “What’s he like?” His tone is forced casual, but Pat knows him better. And he can’t blame him; they were all pretty fuckin’ gutted by the whole — thing — but Griffin, especially. Of course he’s nervous; he didn’t really have a hand in the hiring process, didn’t talk directly to Brian until that one _Awful Squad_ stream when he’d only been there for a week. Justin had, of course, and Pat knows Griffin trusts his brother more than anyone, but — well. He’s within his rights to be wary.

“I like him a lot, actually,” Pat says. “He’s very genuine. Eager to learn, y’know? I, uh. I really do think he’s gonna work out alright.” He tries to keep the weight right in his words. He hears Griffin give a little sigh, though whether it is of relief or exasperation or just a regular exhale Pat couldn’t say.

“That’s good. C’mon, Patrick, hurry up and help me fight this fucker, won’t you? What are you doing over there, anyway?”

“Making more potions so I don’t die while I’m saving your ass.”

“Puh- _lease._ We both know I’m better at this game than you.”

“Okay, wow, you don’t have to be mean about it,” Pat says, as Griffin giggles on the other end of the line.

They give up on gaming after a while and switch to a video call, instead. Pat adjusts his camera so he can continue to be flopped on his bed, because not even his exceptionally cute boyfriend can make him move. He’s expecting some friskiness, because that’s usually the course of events, but Griffin’s got his serious face on.

“What’s up?” Pat says, running a hand through his hair, tilting his head to the side.

“So, I, uh. So you know Justin and I have been talking with Chris about. Y’know. Maybe moving on from Polygon? ‘Cause podcasts, and stuff?”

Pat is, as a matter of fact, quite aware of this, and does not like to think about it especially hard. He nods.

“We’ve been thinking that since Brian and Jenna are there now, it seems like — well, it seems like it might not be a bad time to start actually moving in that direction, instead of just putting it off and putting it off and putting it off. But. I wanted to talk to you before we finalized anything, obviously.”

“I appreciate it,” Pat murmurs, fidgeting with the cord of his headphones.

“Of course,” Griffin says. “I know you’ve been, uh, kind of hesitant about it. Which is super fair. But, um, y’know, I’ve been thinking, too, and since I won’t be kind of your boss anymore, we could. Like. We could actually tell people that we’re a thing.”

Pat looks at the screen, wide-eyed. “You’d — you’d really want to do that?”

“‘Course I would, Pat,” Griffin says. “Why wouldn’t I? And I mean if you’d rather not be public about it we can keep it private, just tell friends and stuff, but I’d go whole hog if you wanted to.”

The juxtaposition between Griffin’s tone and his colloquialism makes Pat bark out a laugh, but he settles quickly, thinking about it. “I mean, that’s — Griff, that’s a big deal. For you especially. You’ve got a lot of people paying attention to you now, y’know?”

“I know. That’s not what keeps me quiet about it, though. It’s really just the work stuff,” Griffin says.

Pat nods. They’d — in the wake of the situation last year, they’d gotten much closer, and then accidentally whoops! Fell hard, head-over-heels for each other. They’d jumped through all the appropriate hoops; Griffin’s not exactly, specifically, Pat’s boss, but he’s been there since the beginning. Helped found the goddamn thing. So Pat does report to him, kind of, and so they figured it would be better to be aboveboard about the whole thing, given the circumstances.

It helps that Griffin’s off-site, and that any behind-the-scenes shuffling around to avoid conflicts of interest could be done discreetly. So they don’t usually work on the same projects, except their recent _Monster Hunter_ streams on account of the fact that they’re the only ones really playing it, and they haven’t told anyone they don’t have to, but… it would be nice. To be able to. He hasn’t even told Simone, for crying out loud.

(Allegra knows, but Pat’s never been able to keep a secret from her. And the McElroy bunch. And Pat’s family. And that’s… basically the list.)

But he’s stunned, a little bit, that Griffin’s considering going public about it. Like, _public_ public. Like, Griffin’s couple hundred-thousand Twitter followers public.

“You really want to tell people? About being with me?” He doesn’t know why he’s so stuck on it. He doesn’t know why he feels a little choked up about it, either. God.

“Yeah, Pat, of course I do,” Griffin says, gently. “I’m crazy about you, you know that. I don’t want either of us to have to feel like we have to hide. I mean — uh, I mean, if you don’t want to come out —”

“No, I — I think — I — I do, I just. I hadn’t thought about it, really? What that would mean?”

“Are you crying?”

“No!” Pat says, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. He’s not _crying,_ just — there were a couple tears in his eyes. That’s all. Could happen to anyone at any time about anything. “I’ve sprung a leak. Shut up. I’m allergic to feelings.”

“I love you,” Griffin says. “I don’t want to pressure you. If you’re not ready to come out, we don’t have to. I’m more than happy to wait for you.”

Pat sniffs. Wishes he had some tissues on hand, so he didn’t look gross in front of his boyfriend. “I love you too. I’ll have to think about it, if that’s okay?”

“Of course!”

“It just makes me nervous to have so many eyes on me.”

“I know. I understand. For what it’s worth, I think it would go over pretty well,” Griffin says.

“You can say that, you’ve all but quit Twitter,” Pat huffs.

“You could too!”

“I will not,” Pat says. “I need somewhere to display my bad jokes on line.”

Griffin rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. Then serious again. “But, uh, for real, not to chase the subject or anything, but… what do you think? About me leaving Polygon?”

Pat takes a steadying breath. “I’ve always said you’ve gotta do what’s right for you,” Pat says. “If that’s what you need to do, I’m gonna support you completely. Just stick around here a little on your tours, okay? I miss you.”

“Thank you, Pat, that means a lot to me. And. I miss you too. I — I’m gonna be in New York in a few weeks, for the quarterly meeting stuff. So. There’s that.”

“I’m glad. It’s been forever,” Pat says.

“I’m excited,” Griffin says, with a hopeful smile. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” Pat says, with a wistful sigh.

“Me too, babe. Me too.”

* * *

Pat picks Griffin and Justin up from the airport. Griff is staying with him; Justin and Russ and whoever the fuck else are staying in a hotel. Well. Ostensibly, Griffin is staying in the hotel, too, but at least the three of them are all perfectly on the same page about where Griffin is spending his nights. Pat suspects Justin is more than happy to have a room to himself, anyway.

Griffin is not, as a matter of fact, all that much shorter than Pat; he’s denser, though, solid, and hardly stumbles when he and Pat collide into a fierce hug. Pat pushes his face into Griffin’s hair, cradles the back of his head. Presses a kiss to his temple, before Griffin tilts his head up and drags Pat down into a truly spectacular kiss that leaves Pat reeling.

“Hey,” Griffin says, grinning, just inches away from Pat’s mouth.

“Hey,” Pat says, a little dazed.

“Save the making out for Pat’s apartment, please. I don’t care how in love you are, I do not want to see my brother stick his tongue in anyone’s mouth,” Justin says, making an exaggerated _ew_ face. Griffin rolls his eyes and grabs Pat’s hand.

“Juice, you smooch Sydnee all the time,” Griffin says, quite cheerfully.

“We’re married, it doesn’t count.”

“Oh, shit, I guess we gotta go elope so we can kiss all we want. Good thing we’re at the airport. Bye, Justin,” Griffin says, pretending to walk off and tug Pat along with him, as Pat and Justin laugh. Griffin just says shit like this, like it’s nothing, like it’s second-nature to imply he wants to spend his whole life with Pat, like — like it’s obvious. Like he couldn’t possibly want anything else.

God. Pat loves him.

They pile into a cab. Pat almost forgets, when he’s not around them, how incredibly hard it is to get a word in edgewise between any combination of McElroys. They have a rhythm of banter that’s been established over decades, and maybe Pat’s a little less shy now than he was when he first started at Polygon, but that doesn’t mean he’s exactly as verbose as either of them.

Justin and Griffin are complaining in tandem about the airport, about the plane, about the probably-exaggerated number of times Griffin had to get up to pee, talking quickly and enthusiastically about anything that will make each other and Pat laugh.

Pat’s apartment is along the way, so he and Griffin disembark before Justin, with a wave and a _see you later._ Some configuration of people are meeting up for dinner later, depending on whose flights get in when and who’s around and whatever other variables are at play. Pat thinks Simone and Brian both said they were going, when they were all talking about it yesterday. Pat wonders if he will be able to be even a little bit discreet, when he and Griffin show up together.

They make a beeline for Pat’s bedroom, because of course they do, and Griffin drops his bags on the floor and wastes no time in pulling Pat in to kiss him soundly. He’s so steady, so self-assured, in this and so many other things. It boggles Pat’s mind on the daily that this wonderful, brilliant man wants to spend his time with Pat.

“Fuck,” Griffin sighs, between kisses, “I _missed_ you.”

Pat opens his mouth to respond, but Griffin grabs Pat’s ass and shoves his tongue in Pat’s mouth and any words that he might have said are transfigured into a moan. Pat runs his hands through Griffin’s short hair and holds him close, pressed tight against him. Griffin breaks away to press hot, openmouthed kisses down the side of Pat’s neck.

“Think we have time to fuck before dinner?” Griffin says, and Pat fucking twitches at the words alone, Jesus Christ.

“I don’t give a shit. We’ll make time, everyone else can wait,” Pat says roughly, and Griffin laughs as he pulls Pat over to the bed.

Pat loves Griffin like he’s never loved anyone else before. That’s a fucking objective fact. Griffin goes through life finding excuses and reasons to laugh, to smile, and to make other people do the same. There’s nothing, _nothing_ at all that feels better than getting Griffin to throw his head back in breathless laughter, and smiling as he catches his breath, his eyes crinkling at the sides. He’s earnest, honest, and seems to draw from an endless well of love. That’s not to say he doesn’t get anxious — Pat’s certainly seen his darker sides — but even then, even when things are hardest, he’s still kind.

Pat isn’t sure what Griffin sees in him, to want so badly to keep him around, but he hopes he never stops.

Griffin strips his shirt off before he even gets onto the bed, then levels a side-eyed look at Pat, shrugs, and takes his pants off as well. Pat laughs and gets him by the hips, runs his hands over Griffin’s back as he kisses him.

“Quit getting distracted, Patrick, take off your clothes,” Griffin says, affecting a whine, and Pat feigns exasperation as he steps back to pull his own shirt off. Griffin settles on Pat’s bed, but doesn’t take his eyes off Pat. He should feel self-conscious under the weight of his gaze, but he finds he really doesn’t. He supposes enough Skype sex will kick your modesty right out, apparently. He winks at Griffin, which earns him a delighted laugh, and once he’s down to his underwear, he joins Griffin on the bed.

This is only their third in-person visit since they’d gotten together. Last summer, last December, and now. They call nearly every night, but — but _god,_ it’s so nice to have him right here, warm and soft and present and smiling.

They don’t have the time or the wherewithal to really drag it out. Griffin fucks Pat hard and fast and eager, just desperate to get his hands on him, touch him everywhere, press their bare skin together, taking everything they can get of the rare gift of each other’s presence. 

They have a good enough time that they’re both still a bit pink-cheeked and giddy as they head out, trading kisses — _just one more — no, wait, just one more_ — before they finally manage to get out the door.

It’s late February, so it’s chilly, and they bump shoulders with each other as they walk. Pat revels in the feeling of just — just touching him, being close to him, even though the closer they get, the more they retreat into professionalism.

“...yeah, Griff went with Patrick — oh, there they are! Hey, you two,” Justin says, as they find the table. He is talking to Simone and Brian, who both turn to greet Pat and Griffin. Pat ends up crammed into the booth between Griffin and Brian, two wholly enthusiastic men he can barely keep up with even one at a time.

“I didn’t expect you to make it on time,” Justin says cheerfully, from the other side of Simone.

“Wow, rude,” Pat says.

“You’re a little infamous for being perpetually late, to be fair,” Brian points out.

“Oh, you Gills and Gilberts,” Griffin sighs, with fond exasperation. “Good thing you’ve got me around to keep you in line.”

Pat rolls his eyes. “Like you’re any better, mister fifteen-minutes-late-every-live-show,” he teases. Griffin elbows him in the ribs, and he laughs. 

“Hush, you, that is not my fault!” Griffin says.

“Uh-huh. Blame your brothers, I see how it is,” Pat says.

He’s suddenly acutely aware of Brian studying them, and feels the back of his neck go hot. Fuck. It is too easy to fall into teasing flirty banter with Griffin. Is he touching him too much? Is he sitting too close? He can’t move away. He is just now being hit with the realization that, oh shit, he has not spent a lot of time with Griffin with other people around, especially not people who don’t know —

“Pat- _rick,”_ Griffin says, jolting Pat back to reality, in a tone that sounds like he may have said Pat’s name more than once. “Are you getting a drink or not?”

“I, uh, no, um, I’m good,” Pat stutters, caught off-guard and reflexively declining without forethought. Then again, it probably is for the best, he knows from the holiday season that as soon as he hits tipsy all he wants to do is snuggle up with Griffin.

Griffin shrugs. “‘Kay. I’m getting something, though.”

“Live your dreams,” Pat says absently, and Griffin laughs. God. Maybe, actually, all he ever wants to do is snuggle up with Griffin.

It’s just the five of them, plus Jenna who arrives shortly thereafter, which suits Pat well enough. He thinks that maybe no one else really wanted to give up their Saturday evening. It’s not terribly rambunctious; really, the loudest that they get are Simone’s and Justin’s laughter, because neither of them have a great sense of volume control, bless them. Justin is caught in the middle between Simone and Jenna’s rapidfire back-and-forth, looking for all the world like he’s watching a tennis match.

“How are you liking Polygon, Brian?” Griffin says, and takes a sip of his drink with raised eyebrows.

Brian looks a little surprised to be personally addressed. “I really like it,” he says, sincerely, with those big hazel eyes of his fixed on Griffin.

“Not that he’d tell you if he wasn’t, McElroy,” Pat chips in, teasing Griffin. He’s been where Brian’s at; it’s a little bit daunting, when you really look up to someone and then you come face-to-face with them, no matter how hard you try not to make it weird. They’ve met, briefly, a couple times, but not in a setting like this, not where they can actually hold a conversation.

“Okay, fair enough, sorry for trying to be _polite,_ Gill,” Griffin says, and Pat snickers.

“You know I’m allergic to small talk and will do anything to avoid it,” Pat says. “Brian, you should tell Griffin about your music podcast, I bet he’ll appreciate it.”

“Oh!” Brian says, now looking owlishly at Pat. “Really?”

“Yeah, dude, tell me. I’m the resident music and podcast nerd, you gotta keep me in the loop,” Griffin says, leaning forward a little to look at Brian around Pat.

Brian is shy, at first, blushing rosy-red — “it’s just this silly thing I do with my sister and my roommate” — but as Griffin is genuinely impressed and interested — “a whole song every week? Hell yeah!” — Brian seems to blossom under the attention and praise.

Their conversation takes a pivot into strange instruments, because Brian has recently obtained some weird annoying thing called a venova and has been taking every possible opportunity to bring it up or play it. He even finagled it into some video earlier this month, because he is a massive nerd. It is all very out of Pat’s depth, and he suspects he must look just like Justin does as they have a conversation across him, but he doesn’t mind. They’re both smiling.

It’s not difficult to tell when Griffin likes someone. It’s not difficult with Brian, either. Both of them wear their hearts on their sleeves and their expressions on their faces like people who have spent their lives participating in healthy sharing of emotions. Pat is much more subdued, generally, but he knows he gives himself away with Griffin, more often than not. He can’t help it, he can’t keep from smiling around him.

Griffin gets up to use the bathroom, and once he’s gone, Brian studies Pat for a moment.

“What?” Pat says, feeling his face heat up.

“Nothing. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile that much all at once,” Brian says. Pat winces, because he’s not wrong — and it’s worse at work when he’s usually worrying about something, anyway — and he doesn’t even have a beverage he can blame on the uncharacteristic candidness.

“Well, y’know,” Pat says, shrugging. “It’s nice to spend time with you guys outside of work.”

Brian blinks — clearly not the answer he’d expected, though what he _was_ expecting Pat can’t possibly imagine — but then he asks Pat how Charlie is and that strange interaction dissipates.

Simone and Jenna both want to say hi to Russ, so they decide to accompany Justin to the hotel, which means Pat needs a cover story for Griffin. So his stupid mouth says, “Brian, Griffin, you guys want to come over?”

Griffin, naturally, says _sure!_ and Brian looks a little disbelievingly excited as he says _yeah of course._ Griffin raises his eyebrows at Pat behind Brian’s head, and Pat half-shrugs in response. He won’t stay too late, surely. It’ll be fine.

But Brian is _observant._ Pat knows this well; Brian is so attuned to Pat that he’ll come bully him into taking a break practically the exact moment Pat needs one. So of course he’s almost certainly put the pieces together. It’s not a long walk, but even so, Griffin takes the cold as an excuse to collide full-force into Pat and knock him sideways against Brian, and then say “Oops!” with a shit-eating grin.

Pat shoves Griffin with his shoulder and Griffin cackles and jumps back to grab Pat diagonally across his torso, one arm over Pat’s shoulder and the other around his waist, like he’s going to dunk him into the dirty snowbank, and Pat is laughing and Griffin is laughing.

And then Pat remembers Brian is _literally right there_ and he sobers almost immediately and peels himself out of Griffin’s arms. Griffin looks a little sheepish.

“Sorry, got carried away,” he says.

“Nerd,” Pat says, fondly. “I’m glad Brian’s here to supervise us, or else you would’ve thrown me in the snow without a second thought.”

“Happy to help,” Brian says. Pat can’t read his expression or his tone at fucking _all._ His heartbeat quickens in anxiety.

They make it back to Pat’s apartment without further incident. Brian excuses himself to the restroom and Griffin and Pat have a brief moment alone as they settle on the couch, carefully organizing themselves an appropriate distance apart.

“Sorry,” Griffin says quietly. “Didn’t mean to tackle you, there.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. I just. Y’know,” Pat says, inclining his head in the direction of the closed door.

“Yeah.” Griffin drops his voice to a full whisper. “I know you guys are close, do you — do you want to tell him?”

“Griff, I haven’t even told Simone,” Pat whispers back.

“Damn, dude, you are fuckin’ discreet as _hell.”_

“I’m really not. You left for the bathroom at the restaurant and Brian told me he’s never seen me smile that much before.”

“Okay, revised statement: you are fuckin’ discreet as hell when I’m not physically present.”

“I just don’t talk about my personal life much.”

“Oh, shit, yeah, I forgot how fucking evasive you can be when you want to,” Griffin says. Pat gives a guilty smile, because it is true. He thinks fast on his feet and can divert a conversation pretty well, if he wants to. Usually. When he’s not distracted by Griffin’s mere existence. “But — if you want to tell him, like, you can? Your call.”

“Didn’t you — like — want to keep it quiet specifically ‘cause of work stuff? I don’t want to blow your shit wide open.”

“Juice and I are announcing to the rest of the staff on Monday that we’re leaving. I don’t mind if you tell your friends. We’re only staying until April. If someone can’t keep their mouth shut, then it’s a moot point anyway.”

Something is battling deep inside Pat, about wanting to tell Brian, and then it hits him.

“Griff,” Pat hisses. “I think Brian has a crush on me.”

“Oh, shit yeah, dude, he definitely does,” Griffin whispers back.

“What!” Pat exclaims in a whisper-shout. “Is that why you want me to tell him, so he’ll back off?”

“No! I don’t care. I mean, I care, of course, but I don’t mind unless — is he bothering you?”

“No! No. Not at all. Uh. Definitely not.”

“You’re blushing,” Griffin sing-songs.

“You’re a dickhead,” Pat grumbles.

“You talk about him every time we call, babe.”

“He’s my coworker!”

“I’m your coworker,” Griffin points out, with a smug grin that Pat can’t help but kiss off his face — quickly, though, so as not to interrupt too much.

“Do I have a crush on him?” Pat asks, in an urgent whisper.

“Dude, I can’t tell you your feelings, they’re your feelings. But, y’know,” Griffin says, and wiggles his eyebrows. “I’m open to arrangements.”

“Oh my _god,”_ Pat breathes. “I cannot believe you.”

“What, are you opposed?”

“No,” Pat confesses, and covers his face with his hand. “I just can’t believe you aren’t. You hardly know him!”

“I know him well enough to know he’s cute and smart and funny as hell and I know _you_ well enough to know that he’s got to be something special, if you’re feeling like this.”

“It’s — I — Griff, you gotta know, it doesn’t mean I love you any less, I love you so _much_ —”

“Pat, baby, I know. I love you too. You’re allowed to like more than one person at a time.”

They’ve mentioned polyamory in passing — Griffin was one leg of a V in a relationship, once, but it fell apart disastrously due to a lack of communication on the part of the midpoint —  
and Pat knows Griffin’s plenty open to trying it if it comes up with them, because he’s plenty open to goddamn everything. He’s got more love in his heart than Pat knows what to do with. And Pat’s, well. Pat’s…

“Do you want to pursue this?” Griffin asks, softly. “If you do, I’m on board. Just keep me in the loop. Or, hell, keep me in the action.” He winks.

“Let’s sort of — feel it out, okay?” Pat replies. “If we get a chance tonight we can — I dunno — see if he’s even interested, in both of us or only one of us, or not at all. We can go from there. But. Yes, I do, very much, if you’re okay with it.”

“Fuck yeah, absolutely, I am so down with any of that,” Griffin says, and kisses Pat. It’s hard, not to get distracted, when Griffin kisses him, because he gets to do it so rarely and he is so fucking good at it, and so it’s no surprise that they’re caught red-handed.

Brian opens the door and walks out of the bathroom, and they jump apart at the sound but not fast enough, because Brian is standing there frozen, staring at them wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“Hey, Brian,” Pat says, a little strangled. “Griff’s my boyfriend. Wanna come watch a movie with us?”

Brian seems to be on autopilot as he nods and crosses the room to sit down on the couch at Pat’s right side. Pat exchanges a quick worried expression with Griffin, and Griffin gives Pat a _well, go on_ gesture. Pat hands control of the Netflix selection over to Griffin and turns his attention to Brian. Clears his throat, awkwardly.

“You okay?” Pat asks softly.

Brian startles, just the tiniest bit, at being addressed, like he’d been so lost in thought that he forgot someone could talk to him. “Yeah! Yeah, ‘course I am.” His voice is a little more high-pitched than normal, laced with anxiety. “I, uh, I’m happy for you guys, sorry, I — I was just — surprised, I didn’t know — that’s really great, how long have you been together?”

“A little less than six months,” Pat says. “Since last September.”

Brian appears to do the math on this in his head, and nods. It makes sense, obviously, because of course it does. “That’s really great.” He shakes his head as if shaking something off. “Shit, I just said that. Sorry. I’m sorry. I. Pat, can I talk to you?” He looks like he’s going to cry. Fuck.

“Go on, the beginning’s boring anyway,” Griffin says, without looking at them. Pat glances over his shoulder, though, quickly, as he leaves the room, and they have the briefest of nonverbal conversations — Griffin expresses concern, encouragement, and then a _go get ‘em_ wink, so. Well. Okay. Alright, then.

Pat takes Brian into his room and closes the door — mostly, not pushing it closed, just letting it fall — and says, “What’s up?”

Brian looks the picture of distress. He has one arm folded over his chest, the other tangled in his own hair. He looks up at Pat over the rim of his glasses. Fuck, he _is_ gorgeous, and he feels like an idiot for not paying attention to his own feelings.

(He didn’t want to — he was so scared that — but it won’t mess things up with Griffin. And that’s. Wow.)

“I’m — shit, I’m really sorry, it’s probably super shitty of me to spring this on you, I don’t want to fuck things up, but — it’s better to be honest, probably, I don’t — I didn’t want you to think that I’m, like, some homophobic asshole or something. I’m, uh. I’m bi as hell, in point of fact. And I — well, hah, first of all, I definitely thought you were straight, and second of all I had — have — _fuck_ — a big stupid crush on you and I’m s — I’m sorry, I shouldn’t — I don’t want to be that fucking guy who — _fuck,_ why can’t I just fucking talk —!”

Pat reaches out and untangles Brian’s fingers from his hair where he’s tearing at it. Brian stares at him in stunned silence and lets him.

He doesn’t let go, and Brian doesn’t pull away, just turns his eyes to where Pat has both of his hands around Brian’s. “Let me address all your concerns the best I can, okay?” Pat says quietly. “I’m definitely gay, I just don’t go out of my way to advertise it. I definitely don’t think you’re ‘that guy.’ I — I’ve known ‘that guy’ and — and that’s a horse of a totally different color. If I asked you to, you’d back off, right?”

“Of course! Of course, I’d never — I — I’ll totally never mention it again and I’ll get over it I promise I just — I just hope we can still be friends,” Brian says, and he still looks like he’s going to cry. Shit.

“Yeah, Brian, of course,” Pat says, as gently as he can. He’s still holding Brian’s hand. Brian looks like he’s going to shatter. He keeps his voice soft, gentle, like he’s talking to some scared wild thing. “The rest of it, we’re gonna need to bring Griffin into this conversation, alright? He and I have talked about it a little, but I don’t want to do anything without his express explicit permission.”

Brian’s mouth falls open. “I’m sorry, _what?_ What — what do you mean — what do you mean, do anything — _Pat_ —”

“I like you,” Pat says, simply. He squeezes Brian’s hand as Brian stares at him in open disbelief.

“Pat — Patrick, you can’t — you can’t just — you’re not —”

“I would never in my entire life say something like that if I didn’t mean it. Come on. We’re talking to Griffin.” He goes to move, and then pauses. “Wait. How do you feel about Griffin?”

“Uh, he’s pretty fuckin’ great, Pat Gill, anyone with a _brain_ knows that —”

Pat grins and leads a thoroughly bewildered Brian by the hand back to the living room. Griffin raises his eyebrows. He’s smiling, hopeful, as Pat and Brian sit down.

“Okay, okay, both of you, what the _fuck,”_ Brian says, apparently having found his words along the way. “I’ve just had about seventeen different revelations at once and I would like everyone to be extremely fucking clear about their intentions so I don’t get my hopes up in the wrong direction, please.”

“Pat’s got a thing for you,” Griffin supplies, helpfully.

“That’s not clear enough. What sort of thing?” Brian says, turning on Pat.

“Uh. A big thing. A crush thing,” Pat says.

“He wants to fuck,” Griffin says, leaning over to put his chin on Pat’s shoulder as Pat says what! very loudly in shock. “Am I wrong?” Griffin says.

“No — I — fuck you, I didn’t say it,” Pat says, flustered.

“You heavily implied it. C’mon, Patrick, tell the man. He told you to be clear,” Griffin said, and oh Jesus god he has a vision of both of them teaming up on him and telling him what to do and _shit,_ that’s a thought that sends heat pooling deep inside him. “Go on,” he says again, in the stern voice he gets when he really wants Pat to listen to him, and Pat knows he’s fucked.

He looks at Brian, who is staring at them in something close to wonder. Pat clears his throat and Brian focuses on him. He feels pinned under his gaze, but manages to say, “I’m super into you. I, well, I’m a little slow on the uptake, and didn’t realize it until, uh, until Griff pointed it out to me, and also I didn’t want to acknowledge it ‘cause I didn’t want to fuck things up with him but. He told me it’s okay. And. So. Uh. He’s not joking. Fucking is absolutely on the table, on my end. But — maybe — if Griffin’s okay with it — maybe more than, more than just something physical?”

“Ooh, Patrick, I love how you think,” Griffin says, nuzzling the side of Pat’s face.

“Quit teasing. It’s your turn, quit deflecting and tell us where you’re at,” Pat says to his insufferable boyfriend.

“Oh, I’m not fussy. And I wasn’t teasing. I’d love any of that. I’d love it if it was just the two of you, fucking or dating or whatever, because I want you to be happy. And I’d love to be a part of it, too, if Brian was open to that. I know we haven’t spent much time together individually, Brian, but — dude, you’re a catch,” Griffin says.

“Are we even allowed to do this?” Brian says, barely more than a breath.

“I’m leaving Polygon in April, it’s anyone’s game, baby,” Griffin says.

“What?” says Brian, stunned.

“Justin and I are moving to full-time podcasting with Trav. Pat and I have been talking about coming out, but if you wanna get in on this we can have that conversation, too,” Griffin says.

“That’ll be an interesting HR talk,” Pat mumbles.

“Eh. We can cross that bridge when we get to it,” Griffin says dismissively. “If we even end up wanting to jump through all the goddamn hoops again. You’re not Brian’s boss, y’know?”

“Okay, whatever, workplace ethics aside, we can deal with that later, if you’d rather. What do you think, Brian?” Pat says. He’s watched Brian go on an emotional journey over the past several minutes, from shock to dismay to hopelessness to shock again to hope to — well, now he looks like someone’s just handed him his wildest dreams and he can’t believe it’s real.

“I literally cannot think of a single thing I want more than you. Both of you. Fuck, I can’t believe — you’re really — this isn’t some elaborate setup, you really mean it?” Brian says, sounding a little breathless.

“God, that would be fuckin’ shitty. No chance in hell of that, dude. We _super_ want you. Am I right, Patrick?”

“Absolutely,” Pat says. “Whatever you want. I can’t speak for Griffin, but — if he’s alright with it, I’m, uh. I’m perfectly willing to be yours — both of yours — for the night. For more than the night. However long you want to keep me around.”

“I wanna keep you around all the time,” Griffin says, putting his arms around Pat. “And I’m more than alright with it. If I’m gonna share you, I’m abso-fucking-lutely sharing you with him.”

“Can,” Brian starts. Stops. Pat nods at him encouragingly. “Can I kiss you?” he says to Pat.

“Please do,” Pat says, and Brian all but pounces on him.

Pat’s still wrapped in Griffin’s arms, with Griffin’s cheek up against the side of his head, but Griffin moves a bit to get out of Brian’s way when Brian straddles Pat’s lap and kisses him. It’s like someone’s opened the floodgates on his confidence and desire, because he doesn’t hesitate to shove his tongue into Pat’s mouth and get a hand in Pat’s hair.

Griffin huffs out a soft, amused laugh next to Pat’s ear — he shivers, at the feel of Griffin’s breath — and then Griffin drops his head to kiss at the curve of Pat’s neck. He holds Pat more firmly, arms tight around his midsection, so he’s pinned between the two of them.

It’s dizzying, to be the subject of both of their undivided attentions. Brian kisses just like he does everything else — with enthusiasm and skill — and Pat’s already half-hard from just this.

“Okay, boys, you’re both gorgeous, but Brian’s gonna fall off the goddamn couch. Can we move this party to the bedroom?” Griffin says. He punctuates this by biting Pat’s earlobe, which makes him gasp.

“Yeah. Yep. Let’s go,” Pat manages. He keeps an arm around Brian’s waist, not wanting to let go of him, this brilliant brand of fire, the perfect complement to Griffin, who is holding Pat’s other hand, who keeps him around and loves him and indulges his whims like this, god, he can’t believe this is happening, he can’t believe Griffin is letting him do this.

They get into Pat’s room and Griffin (gently) pushes Pat out of the way to pull Brian in and kiss him. Pat steps back and runs into his bed, and lets himself collapse on it to watch them. He’s never thought about what it would be like, in this position, watching both of them, but holy hell does it do it for him. They’re just about the same height, tawny-haired, Griffin with a dusting of freckles and stubble, Brian bare-faced. Brian’s leaner, where Griffin is softer. They grab at each other like they’re drowning and they’re each other’s lifeline.

Griffin is handsy — Pat knows this from experience — but Brian, now he has permission, is at least equally so. Neither of them settle; it’s a give-and-take: Brian’s hands on Griffin’s face, Griffin’s hands on Brian’s back, Griffin’s hands in Brian’s hair, Brian’s hands on Griffin’s ass, both of them unabashedly touching each other wherever the fuck they want.

They’re both breathing hard when they finally break apart to pay attention to Pat, who is sprawled out on his back, propped up on his elbows, watching them. Griffin’s eyes rake down Pat and he grins when he gets to Pat’s crotch.

“Someone likes this, huh,” he says, and hops up onto the bed. He kneels beside Pat and pulls him up to kiss him. He doesn’t linger as long as he did with Brian, but he does run his hand down Pat’s front and cup him over his jeans and Pat outright moans at the touch.

“Jesus Christ, Pat Gill,” Brian breathes, getting up onto the bed on his other side. “Can I make you do that?”

“I’m sure you can, he’s easy,” Griffin says, and winks. Pat scoffs, but Griffin pushes Pat into Brian’s arms and he knows he’s done for. Brian pulls Pat into a sitting position, and Griffin settles in at Pat’s back, already moving his hair out of the way to kiss his neck.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” Brian says, running his fingertips over Pat’s cheek as he tries to bring his breathing back to normal. He thumbs over where Pat knows the white spot in his beard is. “Griff and I — we could take you _apart,”_ he says. He presses two fingers down onto Pat’s lip. “Hm?”

“I like how you think, Gilbert,” Griffin says. Brian winks at him.

“What do you say, Patrick?” Brian says, silky-sweet.

“Please,” Pat gasps, and when he opens his mouth Brian pushes his fingers in past Pat’s teeth. He feels Griffin slide his hands up his shirt, his hands splaying out over Pat’s ribs. Pat, ever eager to please, closes his lips around Brian’s fingers and sucks on them, tongues at them.

“Good boy,” Griffin says, right next to Pat’s ear again. “That’s right, show Brian how good you are. Poor thing’s been pining for _ages,_ better make it worth the wait, huh?” Pat fumbles around for Griffin’s wrist, squeezes it. _Be nice._ He duly gentles, before he can get too carried away. “And I know you will, baby. You’re always so good. What’cha think, Brian?”

“You’re perfect,” Brian says, softly. His expression is so open, so tender. “Give me my hand back, please —” Pat opens his mouth and licks all the way up Brian’s index finger as a parting gesture. “Thank you,” Brian murmurs, and kisses Pat’s forehead. “Griffin, can I just — can I just kiss him, a while? I don’t wanna get in the way of your thing —”

“Oh, I don’t got a thing,” Griffin says. “No plans from me, here. I’m just bossy. I mean, I’ll keep being bossy, if you want me to. However you want to play this, I’m game.”

“I like it. I’m bossy too,” Brian says, and grins. “I kinda like the middle ground, right now.”

“Mhm. Best of both worlds, between me ‘n Pat, huh?” Griffin says. Pat can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

“Are you guys — do you usually, like this?” Brian says. He’s petting at Pat’s arms, his chest, his belly, over his shirt.

“I would say more often than not it ends up like this,” Griffin says. “Pat, you’re gonna have to speak up, honey, you’re part of this discussion too.”

“I liked it so much when Brian asked you if he could kiss me, though. What if he just keeps asking you stuff so I don’t have to talk?” Pat says, half-whining, half serious.

“Sorry, babe, gotta use your words. I can’t make decisions for you, we’re not doing anything more in-depth than this tonight. That merits a longer conversation,” Griffin says, ever the voice of reason.

“I _guess,”_ Pat says, in his most tragic sigh, and Griffin laughs. “Ugh, being responsible and shit, who does that? Okay, fine. Brian, I am seriously loving this demanding but tender thing you’ve got going on, I dunno if that’s just your regular speed or what but it’s real fuckin’ good. And Griff, if you call me easy one more time I’m kicking your ass to space,” Pat says, not actually meaning that last; what he will actually do is probably just feel vaguely unpleasant about it.

“I’m sorry, Pat, I’ll be nice. I don’t mean it, I promise. You are so good and there is nothing at all wrong with wanting to sleep with me and Brian. I got swept up, and I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry,” Griffin says, and kisses Pat’s head. “You gotta be gentle with this one, okay, Brian? He acts all gruff but he’s just a big ol’ softie with a sweet heart.”

“I’m sensitive, don’t tease,” Pat grumbles. “This is all new, okay? I need you to be nice to me.”

“I’m not teasing, I mean it. I love it. I love you. I like being sweet to you, anyway. It’s better for everyone involved when I’m not deflecting by being an asshole,” Griffin says. “I know you like it better when I’m being genuine. Hell, I like me better when I’m being genuine.”

“Damn, you really are figuring out your psyche through bedroom dynamics, huh?” Brian says appreciatively. “I can get behind that.”

“What’s your shtick, then, Brian?” Griffin says.

“Not totally sure what you mean, but I’d certainly consider myself a switch. No true preference, but I’m a hell of a brat of a power bottom and it can be a lot to handle.”

Pat glances at Griffin, whose interest is definitely incredibly piqued. He does like a challenge, that man. Pat thinks he’d like to get in on that, in some way. Maybe even just watch, damn.

“And I like to top, anyway. I’m gonna be telling everyone what to do either way, so it suits me well. It’s fun, and I get to make Pat’s stoicism evaporate. You should’ve seen your face when I thanked you for sucking my fingers, Pat Gill. So fucking sweet.”

“I like it when people are nice to me,” Pat murmurs.

“I wanna be nice to you. I’d give you everything you want and then some,” Brian says, and kisses the corner of Pat’s mouth.

“Mm, think of all the good cop bad cop we can do,” Griffin sighs dreamily.

“Griff just wants someone he can push around a little more than me,” Pat says. “Not that I’m not up for it sometimes. It’s just. Y’know. Sometimes I’m not.”

“I get it, don’t worry,” Brian says. “I’ll let you push me around, Griffin, but you gotta know I’m gonna push you right back.”

“Hell yes,” Griffin says, and Pat can hear the grin in his voice.

“Can we go back to the part where Brian is being really sweet and wants to kiss me?” Pat says. “I would like to get back to that part, please. Also please don’t be mean to each other right now or I will be very uncomfortable. Only teamwork.”

“Sure. Absolutely. Bri and I can tag-team you, no sweat. Right?” Brian nods; he’s smiling. He hasn’t, in point of fact, actually stopped smiling at any point since they’ve gotten started. “This is why we have these conversations. Don’t wanna step in it any more than we have to. While we’re paused, though, what do you guys say to there being less clothes involved?” Griffin says, to two very enthusiastic _yes_ es.

So the show gets back on the road. Brian starts to unbutton his shirt, but Pat bats his hands out of the way and leans in to kiss him as he does it for him. He’s indulgent about it, slides his hands under the fabric to palm at his chest, kiss over his collarbone, fumble at the buttons until his shirt is open and he can touch him everywhere. He’s warm, solid; he’s got a little softness to him, but Pat can feel his abs and that is, well, pretty hot.

“Pat, c’mon, quit hogging him,” Griffin complains, scooting over to prod Pat out of the way. He’s already stripped to his underwear while Pat has had his back to him, so Pat doesn’t at all mind latching onto Griffin instead as he takes over for Pat. Pat curls around Griffin and kisses the knob of his spine as Griffin pushes Brian’s shirt off his shoulders.

Griffin’s too wiggly for Pat to hang on to for very long, so he takes the opportunity to get his own clothes off. By the time he’s peeled himself out of his goddamn skinny jeans (look, they make his ass look so good, and it’s the first time he’s seen Griffin in person in months), Griffin’s got Brian spread out under him, his mouth on the side of Brian’s neck, his hands working at Brian’s fly. Brian looks up at Pat and smiles, almost like he can’t not be smiling if he’s looking at Pat, and holds out a hand for him to take.

Pat leans over him and kisses him, his hair falling around their faces like a curtain. Brian pushes Pat’s hair behind his ear and holds him by the back of his neck, keeping him close while, presumably, he lets Griffin take his pants off. And then once that’s accomplished, Brian suddenly flips Pat down with a surprising amount of strength, sending him flat on his back and gasping as Brian straddles his thighs.

“Nice,” Griffin says, approvingly. Brian grins. “Look at you, you little wunderkind.”

“Oh my god we are _not_ dragging Brian’s age into this,” Pat groans.

“Wait, how old are you?” Griffin says, halting suddenly.

“Twenty-four,” Brian admits.

“Oh, that’s fine. Pat, seriously, you and your complex about your age, you are _four months younger than me_ you are not _old_ —”

“Okay, we’re not bringing _my_ age into this either, someone kiss me already,” Pat says, and Brian obliges as Griffin laughs.

“Hey, where can I touch you?” Brian asks, quiet, against Pat’s lips.

“Fuckin’ — anywhere, seriously,” Pat breathes, and Brian does not waste any time. He runs his hands down Pat’s chest, pinches his nipples to make him gasp and smirks about it, drops a hand between Pat’s legs and rubs at him and Pat whines. Brian looks positively thrilled.

“How you feelin’, Gill?” Griffin asks, sidling in, scooting up behind Pat, prodding at him until Pat puts his head in his lap. “Good?”

“Yes,” Pat gasps, as Brian runs his hands up and down Pat’s thighs, watching Pat and Griffin carefully. Griffin runs his fingers through Pat’s hair, pushing it out of his face.

“Tell us what you want, baby. We’ve got all the time in the world,” Griffin says. “Right, Bri?”

Brian goes _mmhm_ and strokes his thumb over the soft skin of Pat’s inner thigh. Pat closes his eyes and sighs.

“Fuck, I just — I hardly even care, I just want you. Both of you. Shit,” Pat says.

“You are so bad at answering questions,” Griffin says, affectionately. “I got to fuck you earlier, what would you say to, oh, I dunno, maybe letting Brian have a chance?”

“Fuck yeah,” Pat says. “Brian?”

“Fuck yeah,” Brian says softly, almost reverent.

Pat is universally a little finicky about this part, so Griffin assumes responsibility again because he knows how to handle him. They were, admittedly, in this same position just a couple hours ago, and really it almost takes longer for Griffin to track down where they’d abandoned their supplies in their earlier haste than it does for him to pull Pat close and press his fingers into him, opening him up again. Pat pushes his face against Griffin’s shoulder, muffling the way he moans because Griff is _good_ at this, knows exactly how Pat likes it.

Griffin kisses the side of Pat’s head as he removes his fingers and gets out of the way. “B-R-B, gonna wash my hands. Bri, you know what to do,” Griffin says cheerfully, and disappears from the room.

Pat is — he’s breathless, needy, and Brian looks at him like he’s something really special, something worthy of his full and undivided attention.

“How are you doing?” Pat says.

“Really, really good,” Brian says. He kisses the corner of Pat’s mouth. Giggles. Says, “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“Well, believe it, ‘cause if I’ve got anything to say about it, it’s gonna keep happening,” Pat says. Brian looks _delighted._ “You gonna sit there and hold that condom all night or are you gonna put it on and fuck me?”

“Oh!” Brian says, like he’s gotten distracted just looking at Pat, and immediately reapplies himself to the task at hand.

They’re deciding what positioning will best suit them as Griffin returns and flings himself back onto the bed with an _oof,_ then bounces up to wrap his arms around Brian and kiss his jaw. “Hey, dorks, we didn’t decide what _I_ get to do,” he says.

“Oh, heaven forbid Griffin doesn’t get his attention,” Pat says, as Brian gets him by the thighs and shifts him so his legs are spread, legs bent at the knee. Brian kisses the top of his calf and side-eyes Griffin.

“What’s that look for?” Griffin says, leaning sideways so he has a better angle to raise his eyebrows solicitously at Brian.

“You said we can share Pat, right?” Brian says, and continues without waiting for an answer. “I wonder what we can both do for him at the same time.”

“Shit, Patrick, why haven’t we brought him in sooner? You’ve got all the good ideas,” Griffin says, and kisses Brian for his trouble. “Let me think. Pat, up you get, c’mon, this isn’t gonna work if I’m gonna suck your dick.”

“You guys are gonna kill me, god,” Pat groans, pulling himself up to his knees.

“Please, you love it. You’re so dramatic. Pat, get over here, Brian — wait hang on I just had an even better idea, hold up,” Griffin says. He looks like he’s calculating in his head. “You guys get started. Brian, you’re gonna fuck Pat, and then Pat, you’re gonna fuck me.”

“I _am_ gonna die,” Pat says, in a sort of delighted awe, and Griffin throws his head back and laughs. “Fuck, Griffin, how am I supposed to not come while Brian —”

“Self-restraint,” Brian purrs, from behind Pat, and bites him under his ear. Pat shivers and presses back against him.

“Exactly,” Griffin says. “Give me the lube, Brian, let’s get this show on the road.”

So that’s how Pat ends up with Brian’s hands tight on his hips, his head thrown back and twisted awkwardly to the side to kiss Brian — hardly even kissing, really, it’s more teeth and tongues and panting into each other’s mouths than anything else. Brian is — he can do absolutely fucking _unreal_ things with his body, Pat is discovering. Like, he’s seen the man dance, everyone has, but he never quite did the math of how those showy hip-thrusts could be applied in other arenas. 

He knows Brian is showing off, because Griffin is right fucking there, and also because every thrust drags needy desperate sounds from Pat and if Pat knows anything it’s that Brian loves a _reaction._ Brian reaches up and grabs a handful of Pat’s hair and tugs gently, testing — Pat says _yeah go for it_ — and, encouraged, he yanks Pat’s head back and bites him on the jaw, neck, wherever he can reach, and Pat makes a sound that’s halfway to a sob. It’s so uncomfortable, bent backwards like this, balancing on his knees with just Brian holding him up, it’s _so_ fucking good.

“Fuck, look at you both,” Griffin says softly, and Brian lets go of Pat enough to let him look at Griffin. Griffin’s face is flushed and he’s a little breathless, his cock hard and his legs spread. He looks incredible. Pat wants him so bad, he’s got Brian’s cock inside him and Brian’s hands on him and he still _wants,_ would beg for Griffin if he could scrape enough brain cells together to make words.

“Hey, Pat,” Brian says. “How well d’you think you can multitask?”

“What?” Pat manages. Whatever Brian’s implying must be clear to Griffin, because Griffin gets that insufferable little smirk and leans forward attentively.

“Apparently not that well, I don’t think Pat can talk and fuck at the same time,” Griffin says, affectionately. He kneels up and kisses Pat, sweetly, a little apologetic. Pat can’t find it in himself to be aggrieved, because Griff’s right, and plus he’s kissing him. Pat whimpers when Griffin pulls away. “Gosh, Patrick, you flatter me. Bri, are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“If — if you’re trying t’get me to fuck you while Brian’s doing this I’m sorry but there is no fuckin’ way that’s possible, I’ll come in one second flat and it won’t be fun for anyone,” Pat says. “Anyway there’s too many legs? I think we have too many legs f — for that, _Christ, Brian_ —”

“We can figure it out another time, then,” Griffin says cheerfully. “When we have more brainpower for creativity between us. Bri, how’s it going back there?”

“So good,” Brian groans. “I’m — _fuck,_ Pat, you’re so good, god.”

“Isn’t he, though?” Griffin says. He leans forward to lick at, suck on, bite at one of Pat’s nipples, then moves his mouth over a half-inch to press into a bruise he’d left earlier. Pat moans. “So responsive, baby, I love it,” Griffin croons. He scrapes his teeth over Pat’s collarbone, and then looks over Pat’s shoulder, presumably to lock eyes with Brian.

And then Griffin and Brian are making out over Pat’s shoulder, right next to the side of Pat’s head. Griffin’s hand trails down Pat’s front and stops just above the base of Pat’s cock, just far enough away that there is absolutely nothing that Pat can do about it and just close enough to tease him awfully. Pat can feel Brian’s chest heave against his back as he pants for breath. His nails dig into Pat’s hip and he moans, muffled by Griffin’s mouth, as his thrusts grow irregular, less rhythmic.

Brian cries out as he comes, a wordless shout as he clings to Pat and works himself through it. He pushes his face against the back of Pat’s neck and stays there for a moment, gasping for air.

“You good?” Pat asks softly, putting his hand over Brian’s.

“Yeah, fuck, _yes,”_ Brian says. He kisses Pat’s cheek before he pulls out. Pat gives an entirely involuntary sad little sound at the loss, and Griffin snickers. Pat makes a face at him. “I’m gonna clean up a bit?” Brian says, phrasing it as a question.

“Go for it. We’ll be here when you get back,” Griffin says, with a salacious grin. Brian kisses Griffin, kisses Pat, and then take his leave of the room.

Griffin pauses for a moment, to cup Pat’s face in his hand. “Hey, beautiful. How are you doing?”

“Real good,” Pat says. “God _damn.”_

“Agreed,” Griffin says. He smiles. “Good choice you made, inviting him over.”

“That was to cover for _you,_ you ass.”

“I know! It was a good decision all around. Are you gonna fuck me or what?”

Pat pushes a laughing Griffin down — carefully — and kisses him, hard and hungry. Griffin lets him, gets his hands in Pat’s hair and holds him close.

“Do you want to fuck me or do you want me to ride you?” Griffin says.

“You know perfectly well what my answer’s gonna be if I get to choose,” Pat says.

“Mm, yeah, you’re my favorite pillow queen,” Griffin teases, and steals another kiss.

“Fuck you,” Pat says, amicably. It’s not like he won’t top, he honestly likes it just fine, it’s just — he has a preference, alright, he does, _especially_ with Griffin. Brian too, apparently. He’s a sucker for an assertive top, honestly; he likes to not have to think so goddamn hard about everything for one second.

“Oh, okay, if that’s your choice —”

“Shut up,” Pat says, and Griffin cackles. He pokes Pat in the ribs and Pat dramatically crumples to the bed and grins up at Griffin.

“Fuck, you guys are cute,” Brian says, and they both turn to look at him. He immediately gives a sort of wince and says, “Sorry, should I not interrupt?”

“Get over here, Brian, come on,” Griffin says, pure affection in his voice. Pat can see a physical wave of relief wash over Brian as he flits across the room and gets up on the bed. He sits with his back up against the wall, his arms around his knees, casually posed but eyes focused.

“Can I.” He looks shy. Pat lifts his chin, raises his eyebrows encouragingly. “Can I hold someone’s hand?”

“Yeah, baby, of course,” Griffin says, but Pat beats him to it, offering his hand palm-up. Brian takes it and holds it in both of his. Lifts it to his mouth and kisses Pat’s knuckles, so tenderly. “Okay, fair enough, I might need both my hands anyway.” Brian huffs out a laugh. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just feeling a lot of feelings, that’s all,” Brian says.

“We’ll have a good long talk after, I promise,” Griffin says.

“Okay. I hoped so. I mean, I figured. Do your thing, guys, I’m fine.”

Pat squeezes his hand. “Only good things, I promise, ‘kay? I like you lots. I get the impression Griff does, too.”

“Fuck yeah,” Griffin says, and Brian’s smiling now, and laughs a little at Griffin’s enthusiasm.

“Okay. That makes me feel better. Thank you.” He kisses Pat’s hand again. “Just — uh — y’know. Worried about this all, uh, dissipating, when we’re done here.”

“Puh- _lease,”_ Griffin says. “Spoiler alert: I wanna keep you. You’re fuckin’ spectacular, dude.”

“Agreed,” says Pat. “On all counts.”

Brian looks, not for the first time tonight, like this wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but like he it is very very glad that it is the one he got. The line of tension between his eyebrows smooths over, and he rests his cheek against the back of Pat’s hand. “Well, go on, don’t let me sidetrack you,” he says, smiling at them, and Griffin wastes no further time.

Pat thinks he might accidentally dig his nails into Griffin’s shoulder and Brian’s hand way too hard as Griffin lowers himself on Pat’s cock, but it feels so goddamn good and even with the pause for conversation he’s still pent-up, desperate. Brian strokes his fingers over the inside of Pat’s wrist and it’s nice — grounding — a gesture in complete gentle opposition to Griffin holding Pat’s hips down, pushing his thumbs in hard, and looking Pat up and down. He’s sure he looks a mess, his chest and shoulders covered in bruises, lips red from kisses, face flushed, breathless.

The look suits Griffin; he has a truly spectacular hickey on his shoulder, from earlier, because Pat can be a bit of a biter under the right circumstances, but otherwise he’s nearly unmarked. His hair’s not long enough to get too rumpled, and as a result he almost looks better put-together than even Brian, who’d probably even taken time to neaten himself before he returned.

“Grif- _fin,_ how long are you gonna torture me?” Pat whines, and Griffin grins.

“Long as I like, baby,” he says, and pinches Pat’s nipple as punctuation, because he is an asshole. Pat groans and tries to thrust his hips up, but Griffin has his full weight on Pat and he’s not going anywhere.

“Aw, be nice, Griffin,” Brian says. Griffin sticks his tongue out at Brian, because, once again, he is an asshole, but it makes Brian giggle so it’s worth it.

“I _guess,”_ Griffin says. “You ready for a show, babe?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer from either of them before leaning down over Pat, kissing him hot and slow. Pat has given up any sense of pretense, at this point, and he can’t help but moan, especially as Griffin starts to move — slow at first, but not for long.

Pat’s been hovering near the edge for what feels like forever, and Griffin pins his wrist to the mattress and fucks himself on his cock and Pat closes his eyes and throws his head back and fucking keens at him, begging wordlessly.

“Oh, Pat, you’re doing so good, baby — fuck, _yeah,_ god, you’re perfect. I got you, angel, c’mon, come for me, baby, it’s okay, you’re _so_ good, you can do it —”

Griffin lets go of Pat’s wrist just in time for Pat to reach for him, just to hold onto him, something to cling to, as — god — as Griffin gets a hand around his own cock, as Brian pushes his hand away to do it himself. Pat only just barely has the chance to watch Brian lean over and take the head of Griffin’s cock into his mouth before he loses it, breaks off into shuddering, gasping breaths as he comes, hips bucking against Griffin, as the white-hot burn of pleasure floods through his nervous system.

Pat collapses bonelessly against the pillows, once Griffin’s disentangled himself from Pat and Brian’s various attachments. He groans and throws an arm over his face. Griffin is laughing at him, and when he peeks out from behind his forearm Brian is smiling — nervous, shy, but a smile nonetheless.

“Yeah?” Griffin says, patting Pat on the thigh. “Come on, let’s clean up so we can talk like normal human beings.”

“Ngh,” is Pat’s very considered and articulate response to this. “I told you this was gonna happen.”

“Patrick Gill: died because he can’t come twice in one day without melting. He will be missed,” Griffin deadpans. “Get up.”

Pat gives his very most put-upon sigh and heaves himself up into a sitting position. Brian is watching him with those big hazel eyes, and Pat can’t help but lean over and kiss his cheek. His cautiously blank expression breaks into a great big smile, at that.

“C’mon, you too, I bet there’s a spare toothbrush around here somewhere,” Pat says, and tugs at Brian’s arm to emphasize his point.

They trip all over each other in the bathroom, because Pat does live in a tiny New York City apartment. Pat gets an elbow to the ribs at least three separate times (he swears they’re doing it on purpose). He ditches them so he can put on some underwear and change the sheets, and after he tucks the far corner in he discovers he has an audience.

“Nice ass,” Griffin says cheerfully, and then catapults himself onto the bed, barely avoiding landing directly on top of Pat. Pat laughs and hugs him, peppers quick little kisses all over his face because that always makes him giggle.

Brian is still standing, watching them. He’s got his underwear back on and he looks so fucking worried again.

“Don’t make that face, Brian, come here and let Pat smooch you too,” Griffin says, waving him over, and so Brian gets on the bed and slides over to Pat, who transfers himself from Griffin to Brian to do the same to him. Pat is persistent, draping himself over Brian’s shoulders and holding him tight and kissing him and even tickling his ribs — he _shrieks_ — until he doesn’t look so worried, until he’s smiling.

“I have a proposition,” Griffin declares.

“If it involves my dick, it’s gonna have to wait ‘till tomorrow,” Pat says.

“It does involve your dick. It involves mine, too, and Brian’s.”

“Oh, good, a dick party,” Brian deadpans, and any attempt at seriousness is flung out the window as Pat and Griffin collapse into helpless laughter.

“You dork!” Griffin says, finally, delighted. “Okay, my proposition is as follows, get ready.”

“Oh my god, Griffin,” Pat says.

“Stop interrupting me! My _proposition_ is that we date Brian, because holy shit, look at him. Look at this face!” Griffin says, and cups Brian’s chin in his hand to emphasize his point. Brian scrunches up his nose and sticks his tongue out, which makes Pat laugh. “Still fuckin’ cute, Gilbert. I _like_ you! You have thoroughly charmed me. Pat, what’s your take?”

“Hell yeah,” Pat says, and nuzzles his face against Brian’s shoulder. “I am a very big fan of this arrangement. And also Brian. Brian, I’m a very big fan of you, did you know?”

“Oh,” says Brian, who sounds — almost surprised.

“Come on, I wouldn’t have done this with you if I didn’t like you,” Pat says.

“That’s a certified fact,” Griffin confirms. “Pat’s got good taste —”

“Wow, vain much?” Pat mutters.

Griffin ignores him. “— So I trust him about you. I know, like, we don’t know each other quite as well, but — I’d like to. I’d very, very much like to date you.”

“So would I,” Pat says. “Will you be our boyfriend? Please?”

Brian looks like he’s going to fucking _cry._ He flings his arms around Pat and Griffin and hugs them both tight to himself, like they’re going to disappear if he lets go. “Yes,” he whispers. “Yes, _absolutely,_ you guys, oh my god, like I’d ever say no. I — fuck, I’ve had _such_ a crush on you, Pat, and — and Griffin, I would’ve had more of one on you if I thought you were in any way, shape, or form _attainable,_ holy shit, I can’t believe this is _happening_ to me.”

“Oh, it’s definitely happening,” Griffin says, and steals a quick kiss. Then pauses and levels a suspicious look at Brian. “You listen to my podcasts, don’t you.”

Brian blushes. “Yeah. I have for, uh, ages. Sorry.”

“Man, you know so much shit about me and I don’t have anything on you!” Griffin complains. “Terrible!” There’s no genuine upset, though. “Pat was the same, goddammit.”

“Yeah, how awful, you’ve got a successful podcast,” Pat teases.

“I’m an open book,” Brian says. “Anything you ask, I’ll answer.”

“Ooh, we are _so_ playing twenty questions, if Pat doesn’t pass out first.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Pat says. “Come on, we’ve gotta do a better cuddle than this, this is not ideal at all, I’m all hunched over and Brian’s strangling me.”

“Am not,” Brian huffs, and releases him.

It is slightly complicated, to find the ideal cuddle between three people. Pat wants to be in the middle, because he’s a needy fucker, but he feels like Brian should get to be in the middle because he’s new. They finally figure it out, with Pat on his back and Brian and Griffin curled around him like a pair of parentheses. Pat’s narrow, and they’re both draped over him a bit, so anyone can kiss anyone else if they are so inclined.

“Ha. Griff, you still thinking of coming out?” Pat says, fully expecting it to land as a joke, but Griffin takes the inquiry seriously.

“Honestly? If this works out? I totally would, with both of you,” Griffin says. “You guys might have to figure some shit out at work, if you’re gonna be openly dating there, but… honestly, my opinion hasn’t changed. I don’t give a shit what people say.”

“You guys could, y’know, come out first, if you wanted to. I don’t mind waiting my turn,” Brian says.

“We don’t have to figure it out now,” Griffin says. He takes Brian’s hand and squeezes it. “Whatever we decide, it’s gonna be whatever makes all of us feel happiest and most comfortable. It’s all three of us now, y’know? No one gets left behind.”

“Oh shit, Griffin,” Pat says. Griffin raises his eyebrows. “We are gonna have _such_ fun on Skype calls now.”

“Damn,” Brian says. “I didn’t even think about that. Better get your voyeuristic streak going, Griff.” He winks, and Griffin laughs.

“God, I should just move here already, huh?”

“Mm. Yes,” Pat says, carding his fingers through Griffin’s hair. “You know I’d love that.”

“I’ll keep thinking about it,” Griffin says, and kisses Pat’s temple. “It would be nice. And now I’ve got double the incentive.”

“Fuck yeah,” Pat says, and then yawns.

“Oh no, oh Pat, you’re getting your sleepy face, this is _so_ tragic,” Griffin says. Brian snuggles up closer to Pat, nestling against him comfortably.

“You wore me out, Griff, can’t help it,” Pat says. He tugs at Griffin until he settles; he and Brian hold hands on top of Pat’s chest. Pat’s heart is so, so full. He turns his head to kiss Brian’s forehead, then Griffin’s. He’s certain he’s going to wake up in the middle of the night dying of heat but he doesn’t care, not at all.

Brian’s lips brush over Pat’s jaw, feather-light, as Pat closes his eyes.

“Night, baby. Love you,” Griffin says against the side of Pat’s neck.

“Love you,” Pat echoes back, already half-asleep.

* * *

They’re woken by Pat’s ringtone blaring from somewhere off the side of the bed, and he groans. “Griff, can you see if it’s important?”

Griffin grunts in acknowledgement and feels around for Pat’s phone.

“Gill residence, this is Griffin, how may I direct your call?”

Pat can hear Simone’s voice on the other end of the line. “What are you doing there? And why isn’t Pat answering the door?”

“Aw, shit,” Pat sighs, and leans in to talk next to the speaker. “Simone, c’mon, you weren’t supposed to be here ‘till after lunch.”

“It’s one in the afternoon, Pat! Are you really telling me you just woke up?”

“What’s all the commotion?” Brian mumbles, draping himself over Pat.

“Is that Brian?” says Simone through the phone. “What are you _doing_ in there?”

Griffin just laughs. “Be there in a minute, Simone,” he says, and hangs up on her. He turns to Pat and raises his eyebrows.

“I _told_ you she was coming over today. I fell asleep before I set my alarm,” Pat grumbles, already sitting up. Brian makes a complaining sound and wraps his arms around Pat’s middle. “Brian, baby, I gotta let Simone in before she kicks down the door.”

“But I had _plans,”_ he whines.

“Yeah, so did I. Like showering. Are we telling her, or…?” Pat says.

“Sure,” says Griffin.

“You better, I refuse to not be cuddling at least one of you for the next like twelve hours, at a minimum,” Brian says, and Pat laughs. He takes Brian’s hands and moves them off of himself, and Brian rolls over and snuggles up with Griffin.

“I can’t believe I made plans for today, what was I thinking,” Pat grumbles, rummaging around for a shirt and some pants. “You guys better put some clothes on and participate, so help me god.”

Pat opens the door to Simone and Allegra.

“Was that Brian I heard on the phone?” Simone says, as she comes inside. “Wait. Hang on.” She interrupts herself as she looks him over, her eyes honing in on his neck. Shit. Griff’s practically a fucking vampire. This is why he wears collared shirts. Goddamn it.

Allegra, at her side, is barely restraining a fit of giggles.

Pat sighs. “Yes, it’s a hickey, yes, it was Brian you heard, though whether it’s him or Griff that’s responsible for that is a coin-flip, really.”

Now Allegra is surprised too, and he feels a little smug to get one over on _both_ of them, for once.

“Hey, you two. Mind if we steal Pat away for a minute? I think all three of us are direly in need of a shower before we’re in any shape to entertain,” Griffin says, poking his head into the room. Brian is a half-step behind him, barely hiding a grin behind his hand. Both of them have stolen clothes that belong to Pat, because they are the worst.

“Oh my god,” Allegra says, and then bursts out laughing. “Pat, goddamn it, stop dating all the cute ones!”

“I cannot and will not,” Pat deadpans. “If you two pick up lunch I’ll buy?”

“We already ate,” Simone points out. “But if you fund a bakery stop we’ll stay out of your hair for even longer,” she adds, conspiratorially.

“Goddammit,” Pat sighs, defeated. Well, he can only flip the script for so long. “Yeah, shit, okay.”

Allegra and Simone high-five.

“Remember, it’s dangerous to have sex in the shower. Don’t fall and break your ass,” Allegra says, cheekily, as she and Simone get unsubtly shooed out the door, and Pat narrows his eyes at her. She laughs, and Simone laughs, and Pat shuts the door on them. He leaves it unlocked, this time, so that they can let themselves in if he’s busy.

And then he crosses the room to his terrible, wonderful, amazing, perfect boyfriends, for them to wrap him in a double-sided giggling hug.

“They are gonna give us _so_ much shit,” Pat sighs into Griffin’s shoulder.

“Worth it!” Brian says.

And, honestly? He’s absolutely right.

**Author's Note:**

> i am SO attached to these three?? im very soft abt this  
> i am thinking that this is going to be a series in three parts, one from each of their pov, so stay tuned for if and when i ever finish the other ones sdkjdfhgskdjf
> 
> as always, comments and kudos pay the bills  
> @segmentcalled on twitter, let me know in a comment if you req! comments are moderated and i can delete as requested ♥


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